PSa?,55 

I%31 



^ ORIGINAL 



MISCELL 



ANEOU^ 



IF(l>li^3d 



CONTAINING THE REFLECTIONS OF THE AUTHOR ON THE 

INCIDENTS OF HIS OWN LIFE, AND A VARIETY OF 

OTHER SUBJECTS, DURING HIS FEW LEISURE 

MOMENTS • 



BY 



^^I 



ROBERT McCRMMN 



SECOND EDITION. 



PONTIAC, 



1837. 



■"1-1 

District ofjrlichigan^ to loit : 

BE it remembered that on the seventh day of July, anno 

domini one thousand eight hundred and thirly- 

L. S. seven, Robert McCracken of the said district, 

hath deposited in this office, the title of a book, 

the title of which is in the words following, to wit : 

<' Original Miscellaneous Poems, containing the re- 
flections of the author on the incidents of his own life ; 
and on a variety of other subjects, during his few leisure 
moments. By 'Robert McCracken. Second Edition." 
The right whereof he claims as author, in conformity 
with an act of Congress entitled " an act to amend the 
several acts respecting copy rights." 

JOHN WINDER, Clerk, 
bv J AS. R. HAMMOND, Dep.ClerL 



J/i 



5^ 



INTRODUCTION. 

My present work is now complete, 
My friends and patrons all I greet, 
Many hours I've beguiled 
For to compose the measures wild ; 
My head oft'times forsook my pillow, 
1 took my harp down from the willow, 
W here I had hung it once before 
And thought I ne'er would take it more. 
But yet upon mature reflection, 
I think my friends w^ont make objection 
If I should take my harp again 
And tune it to another strain. 
A poet has lisence to diverge, 
Into some grove or field emerge, 
Or by some gentle purling brook 
Where for his muse does anxious look j 
And if perchance he finds her nigh 
Who can describe the poet's eye ? 
It glows with lusture, mind expand 
Steps forth and takes her by the hand. 
With arms akimbo they are seen 
On mountain top or valleys green, 
Then quick as thought return again 
Unto some spacious vwdant plain> 
Where Flora does her skill impart 
To please the eye and charm the heart. 
Where he beholds her every hour 
Decking each expanding flower ; 
Then in nocturnal slumbers he 
Surveying vast immensity. 
Visits each planetary world 



As through the air his fancy 's hurl'd ; 

Then just to suit the Poet's notion, 

He views in moon the locomotion 

That Herschel saw from Cape Good Hope, 

Just to give his fancy scope 

He sees them there their wings expand, 

Descend into some pleasant land ; 

There luscious fruits are brought to view, 

Each hand to each as others do. 

Why should we then this world extol, 

The most pohte, refined of all, 

When slavery's tyrannic reign, 

Holds human beings in her chain ? 

My paper 's spent my pea is lacking, 

Take this from Uncle Bob McCrackkn. 



ORIGINAL 



POEMS, 



BY ROBERT McCRACKEN. 



THE POET'S APPEAL. 

Some say ihe poei's mind is always light— 
Who strikes at random cannot sure be right. 
He does not know the chilling grief and thrall, 
That oft the poet's bosom does appall. 
Oft when a cheerfulness he seems to assume, 
His mind 'b o'ershado'ved by a mist of gloom ; 
He wanders low in solitary dale, 
By purling stream or in some lonely vale ; 
His mind with grief and sorrow overcast, 
He dreads the future and regrets the past, — 
Then if his muse will but with him enjoy 
One social hour, she cheers his downcast eye, 
His faded countenance she seems to illume, 
Dispels the grief, the sorrow, and the gloom ; 
Then with her aid, he flies around the world, 
Swift as a ball, when from a cannon hurled ; 
He traverses regions far, unknown, 
Converses with the King upon his throne. 
There's Pope, and Byron, in their day and nation. 
Each had advantage of good education — 



6 



Why should not 1, then burst the clownish fetters, 
Merely from a knowledge of my letters ? 
Ye formal critics, censure not too hard, 
But pardon the errors of your humble bard. 



ANSWER TO A CHALLENGE. 

My hair is white my pen is weak, 

For challenges I never seek : 

I wish without the least objection 

For to enjoy my own reflection. 

But classic scholar from the east 

Among the deer does make a feast, 

With powder-horn and bullet-pouch, 

I'm sure he is no common slouch ; 

In typography he has some knowledge. 

He may perhaps have been to college. 

I infer from his effusion*, 

Which makes me draw up this conclusion, 

*' Sons of the East why rest you there 

Among the rocks with your plough share.'' 

These lines I've quoted from his pen ; 

If he perchance should write agam 

I do not wish to take the field, 

I to his pen would rather yield j 

Therefore I shall not think it hard 

If he is stiled immortal bard, 

But ihrough jour columns I will look 

For challenges from Mr. Cook. 



THE FAREWELL. 
Farewell to Susquehannah— I now bid you adieu, 



If Providence permits me, I again shall see you, 

I am going to Niagara, the land of the King, 

And to George third, of England, a tribute must bring. 

I leave the sweet streams of the Brier creek, small, 
Where the oaks they are lofty, and pines very tall, 
Where the eagle is soaring half M'ay to the sky, 
And the wild deer leaps over the mountam so high. 

Where the flocks are a feeding half way to the moon, 
And couch in the shade at the hour of noon. 
Where lambs are a bleating, and cows they do low, 
The land of my childhood, 1 bid thee adieu ; 

Where I often have joined' in pursuing (he chase, 
And drawn up my rifle to the side of my face, fstand 
When my hound was a baying, while the roebuck did 
On Brier creek mountain, my own native land. 

Now fifteenth October, eighteen hundred and four, 
My horses are harnessed and stand at the door, 
And 1 must make ready, my journey pursue. 
My charming dear Ellen, I bid you adieu. 

Farewell yc pretty fair maids, I now bid you adieu, 
It will be a long season ere I shall see you. 
Farewell all you young men, my comrades so brave. 
And do not reproach me, when I'm in my grave. 

Many a glass we've drank together, of brandy and gin, 
Of wine, rum, and whisky, and many such thing. 
Some times we've been tipsy, and crack'd in the brain, 
But if e'er we were drunk boys, we're sober again. 

Of all the pretty fair maids that 1 leave behind, 
My charming dear Ellen, still rests en my mind, 
Her form is so graceful, her love is so true, 
Jt almost unmans me to bid her adiew. 



THE PRETTY MAID. 

Attend to the story that I am relating, 
Concerning a maid of virtue and fame ; 
As I walked forth one day to a meeting, 
I chanced to espy this most beautiful dame, — 
I saw by a glance, that her eyes they did sparkle, 
The rose on her cheek was most fully display'd, 
The crimson surrounded with white in a circle, 
Adorning the face of this beautiful maid. 

For closer communion, my heart was on fire, 

But did not at first my emotions reveal. 

For I must confess that 1 had a desire, 

The passion of love evermore to conceal. 

But like the proud billow that's bursting asunder, 

I was tortured by Cupid, a bending his bow. 

The most valiant of soldiers was forced to surrender 

And yield to the mercy of conquering foe. 

From top to her toe she is all perfection, 
The fairest of creatures that ever was seen, 
I am sure she deserves a princely protection, 
Old England cannot boast of any such queen. 
The hair of her head does extend to her binding, 
In ringlets more chaiming than silver or gold, 
Hangs dangling down, on her shoulders reclinmg. 
Oh, what a beautiful sight to behold. 

Diana, or Flora, or the fam'd queen of Tyre, 
Cannot be compared with this beautiful maid, 
If she proves cruel my life will expire, 
My fancy is fix'd and my heart is betray'd. 
1 am sure that 1 have not committed high treason?, 
Why am I thus wrongfully doomed for to die ! 
Rejected, forsaken, and know not the reason- 
She ^slights me, and never will tell me for whv. 



By fancy allured (o admire their graces, 
We flatter young females, wherever they be, 
The charms that appear in fantastic faces, 
And greater than ever in nature vi-e see. 
But fancy is false, and a noted deceiver, 
She'll paint a foul face, to look handsome and gay. 
Beware of her snares boys, and do not believe her 
For as sure as you do, she will lead you astray. 



CAPE HORN. 

I courted a lady of honor of late, 
Her form it was graceful, her mind it was great, 
Refined by science to learning was bred — 
It was my intention with her to be wed. 

Five years I have known her and during which spacSj 

1 never saw any possessing hor grace, 

Such aiTable temper and humor so free, 

1 thought that kind fortune ordained her for me. 

But hard is my fortune and cruel my fate, 
I find I'm deceived — alas, when too late j 
She loves an old man that is fifty or more, 
And despises a bachelor twenty and four, 

Her age I can tell you is twenty and two, 

If her and her father informed me true ; 

Such difference of birth, at least twenty-eight years ! 

Will cause her to shed many showers of tears. 

Sure she cannot love him !— there is no such thing — 
The birds coo and bili yet they change every spring, 
I am sure alj her love will soon turn into scorii, 
And a thousand to one tliat he doubles Cape Horn. 



10 



And now I conclude, and I'll drink to the vine 
That blossoms each month, and bears fruit once in nine- 
And when she gets married I'll wish her much joy — 
And laugh at the old man when nursing the boy. 



ON A STORM. 

The evening was cloudy the weather was warm, 

All nature foreboded an impending storm, 

Alone in the forest as musing 1 stood, 

From the hand of destruction my preserver was God, 

The wind from a gentle breeze, rose to a gale, 
The forest its ravaging blast did bewail, 
The oaks that for centuries on centuries had stood, 
They now were thrown prostrate by the breath of our 
God. 

For shelter I stood by an oak that was green, 
The flashes of lightning all round me were seen, 
The voice of Omnipotence thunder'd aloud, 
'Midst vivid light flashes that burst from the cloud. 

I thought on the day, when his justice should call 
The world into Judgment, the great and the small— 
The King and the noble, the high and the low — 
To hear their just sentence before Him must go. 

What grief and dismay to those on the left hand ! 
When "depart, ye accursed," shall be the command ! 
When those on the right hand will soar to the sky— 
The Lord he hath spoken — and he cannot He. 

When the Savior cxpir'd, and sinners did shake 
Their heads in derision— the earth it did quake— 



11 



The sun it was darkened, the rocks they did rend, 
The graves they were open'd and saints did ascend t 



REFLECTIONS. 

As I walked forth one evening one evening in May, 
The birds were all chanting their notes from each spiay. 
The violet and lily on the plain did appear, 
And the sound of a cascade fell hard on my ear. 

My mind was absorbed in reflection sublime, 
I thought on the space and the shortness of time, 
What grief and vexation we mortals do have 
'Twixt the hour of birth and the verge of the grave. 

The muses were sporting around very nigh, 
I call'd for their aid and this was their reply, 
You have served Aganora full fifty nine year, 
And us have neglected as plain doth appear. 

I was lost in amaze at the close of the day, 
I call'd on Vibelia to guide my lone way, 
Hygeia descending my mind did constrain 
To tarry with Flora and sport on the plain. 

The moon was ascending in azure so bright, 
And set herself forth as the queen of the niglit, 
The dew drops were falling the rose to adorn, 
And make her refulgent at return of the morn. 

I saw little Flora deck with her own hand 
The folds of the lily, as they did expand. 
The violet and tuhp acknowledged her sway 
As they were unfolding to hail the new day. 

The sun rose in splendor, I homeward did steer, 
I then hailed ihe spring as Clueen of the year 



12 



My spring and my summer of life are now o'eij 
When winter advance? then I am no more. 

The spring of my youth and my eiimmei of gleCj 
They now are gone over and vanished from me. 
My autumn of age is advancing along, 
The winter of death puts an end to my song, 

Robert McCracken is dead and gone, 
In oblivion he is lost, 
And to accommodate hjh> friends 
Many dollars it has cost. 



ON THE DEATH OF SCOBY. 

My sister, come weep not for him that's departed ; 

He 's just gone before thee, come follow the road ; 

He 's freed from all trouble, don't be broken hearted, 

He 's resting secure in the arms of his God. 

His cares and his troubles they now are all ended, 

Bright seiaphs around his death pillow attended, 

Escorted by angels to heaven ascended, 

A singing the praises of God and the Lamb. 

To think of the glory that there does await him, 
Upon the bright bank of Jordan's dread stream, 
He 's now in the bosom of the patriarch Abram, 
While angels sing praises he joins in the theme. 
The waters of Jordan before him were dried 
The heavenly mansions beyond he descried, 
Stood firm on the rock, on his Savior relied. 
Who died to redeem him from earth with his blood. 

Join hand in hand sister go with us to Zion, 
And there we will rove the Elvsian field : 



13 



The promise of Jesus we still will rely on. 
The glory that hereafter shall be revealed. 
There in full glory we'll ever be praising, 
On the face of Jehovah with rapture we're gazing, 
Our voice with the angelic choirs are raising, 
Hallelujah forever to Jesus's name. 



CHRISTMAS EVENING'S REFLECTIONS 

O hail to the birth day of Jesus our Savior, 
In Bethlehem city the babe he was born-, 
For want of a bed he was laid in a manger, 
Where oxen were feeding; the Jews they did scorn 
To acknowledge the Lamb as their Prince and their 

Savior, 
And Herod conspired to destroy him forever. 
Yield to his sceptre their elders would never, 
But delivered to Pilate the Savior divine. 

While shepherds kept watch by their flocks in the evening 

Bright angles appear'd with this heart cheering sound, 

In the city of David is born a Redeemer, 

And the glory of God was shining around. 

As soon as the angels this message imparted, 

The shepherds arose and for Bethlehem started, 

A star went before them, and never departed 

Till they came to the place where the Savior did lie. 

All glory to God for the heavenly stranger, 
To whom they were guided by the light of the star, 
They gave to the infant that lay in tha manger 
Tieasure of gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. 
All hail to the day when again he 's returning j 
Tho elements on fire, like fuel are burning, 



14 



The righteous rejoicing, and sinners are mourning, 
To see Prince Emmanuel descending to reign. 



CONTEMPLATION. 

As 1 was a walking one night all alone, 

The weather was ple^^sant, and bright shone the moon — 

My mind was a roving to regions afar, 

"With sublime admiration viewed each glittering star. 

To look forth in an evening through the regions of space, 
See numberless planets unveiling their face — 
They are bound to the west, and proclaim as they shme. 
The being who formed us is surely divine ! 

The beings who inhabits the planets that roll 
Beneath the sun's beam, or the northern pole — 
Stood at their creation in rank and in file, 
And the angels of heaven upon ihem did smile. 

1 will now leave the planets, and view the fix'd starSj 
That are far beyond Jupiter, Venus, and Mars, 
And Mercury too, with his firy blaze, 
Yield to their Creator a tribute of praise. 

How slothful we morials Mho dwell on this ball, 
When the spirit of Jesus so loudly doth call, 
Come view in my hands^ in my feet, in my side ! 
For love of poor sinners I suffer'd and died I 



AN EXCURSION OF FANCY. 

As I walked forth one evening to take the freah air. 
^Jy muse I was seeking to find— 



15 



On the banks of the Clinton, for often limes there 
She assuaged my sorrow of mind. 

I called for my muse, but she did not appear, 
Which made me feel something forlorn — 

O, have I ofiended my wandering dear ? 
Or why then does not she return / 

Or has she proved false and forsaken mc quite, 

And left me forever to mourn ? 
I am sure that my slumber will leave me to-niglit, 

Unless that my muse does return. 

She V'hisper'd me softly, "go home to }our rest^ 
For to-night I am better employed ; 

You have courted me long, and 1 fear at the best, 
That you never will make me your bride.'' 

I turned with disgust, and sped over the plain j 
Came near to its farthermost verge, 

The stars in the east had begun for to shine, 
E'er into the grove I emerged. 

I was something surprised at a form I espied, 
Like a sylph she appcar'd in the air, 

Her cheeks were like roses bespangled with dev.-. 
In ringlets suspended her hair. 

I saw her distinctly through Jupiter's glare, 

Little Flora was close by her side, 
With her box of vermillion, her brush in her hand^ 

A decking the lilliea with pride. 

I bow'd myself low, with a reverend grace, 

I approached the beautiful fair, 
A glow of oomplaicency shone in her face. 

Her breath was like balio m the alt . 



16 



'Tvvas Hygeia descending to walk on the plain, 
The ploughman and shepherd to cheer. 

To bless Aganoia with health to sustain 
Her task to the end of the year. 



ON SPRING. 

O hail thou sweet season that's oil my delight. 

When clad in thy mantle of green — 
"When zephyrs are fanning my couch in the night. 

And the rose in the garden is seen. 

When the birds are a chanting their notes in the grove, 
And the night-hawk is piercing the air — 

When the sw^ainis induced to walk forth with his love. 
Then I to my cave do repair. 

When the streams are unfetter'd frorn winter's cold; 
chain, 

Meandering down through the vale— 
And the rosy-deck'd lass with her favorite swain, 

Reclines by the side of the dale. 

Where Flora is busy a painting each flower. 

With a hand that's to mortals unseen-^'' 
No being on earth can afford a sweet hour, , 

Like spring in her mantle of green. 

My mind is dejected^ I am all forlorn, 

Such a being you seldom have seen— 
! often times wish that I ne'er had been born, 

Yet revive 'neath spring's mantle of green. 

Why should I repine or disconeolate be, 
Or reflect on the joys I have seen — 



17 



l( the clouds should rain pleasure, there is none for me, 
For faded's my mantle of green. 

And now I am bound for the land of delight, 
That through faith's telescope may be seen — 

Where the King and his subjects wear mantles of 
white, 
And the fields'wiU forever be green. 



YOUNG SANDY McGRAW. 

Ye people that's barefoot, I'd have you to know, 
Since Sandy's gone from us,, barefoot you must go- 
Long time he's been with us, but now he's avva, 
And we'll drink a health to young Sandy McGravv. 

Ye ladies that often his leather have trod, 
That always did smile at his wink or his nod, 
Sure ye will lament him now he is awa, 
And ye often will think on young Sandy McGraw, 

But hark, I will tell you, ye need not to mourn, 
Although he's gone from us yet he will return, 
For he will come back and he'll shoe ye sa bra, 
And then ye'U caress the young Sandy McGra^'. 



ON BOGUS MONEY. 

Long time masonic craft conceal'd 
The mystic word or Logas, — 

But Israel Pearsall has reveal' d, 
The art of making bogus. 

He went to purchase implements, 
No money for to plank, 

b 



He got endorsers three Im hnui. 
To assist him at the bank. 

Away he went to buy a mint. 

No power did heiear, 
With face and heart as hard as flint, 

As plainly does appear. 

I'm sure 'twas fortunate for liim, 
That death did close his eyes — - 

For had he lived I make no doubt 
They would him Morganize. 

He's neither gold nor silver coin, 
With him they cannot rogue us, 

He once was thought a genuine — 
But now he is a Bogus, t 

I'm sure H — N — 's an honest man, 
And so is doctor Straight Back — 

Munson sometimes takes your bran, 
But little I think e-^all that. 

But that merchants of cur time, 
I think it something funny — 

Should with the quacks and lav^^ycrs join 
In making Bogus money ! 

I'm sure that they are rich enough,— 
On every hand they rogue us — 

But it's good to have some handy change. 
And that they want in Bogus. 



fit is sai^that he was anatomized. 



THE LILY OF THE PLAIN. 

I am doomed to grief and torment; my mnd is sore 

oppressed, 
No tongue can tell the anguish that lies within my breast, 
My mind is sore afdictad,, forsaken and forlorn, 
I am in IhJs land a stranger, which causes me to mourn. 



19 



Ry fancy oft times rambling I rove the globe around, 
ij/ievv the fields in verdure, the plains with lilies crovvn'd, 
'I'he. meadows clad with daisies, the hills with shrub arxd 

thorn, 
All nature seems rejoicing, and onl}' I must mourn. 

I wander among the lilies the cowslip and the rose, 
I endeavor oft, but all in vain, my mind for to compose, 
Though sweet the rose and lily, there's none can ease 

my care — 
Each flower hath its poison, each sweet a fatal snare. 

Q«e tulip among the violets by chance I did espy, 
More fragrant than the rosy which caused me to draw 

Ilcr leaves began to wither, Iier fragrance blew away, 
She opened in the morning and blasted the next day. 

To view the pleasant lilies I leave the cypress shade, 
Tlie glorious King Solomon was not like these array'd, 
The fairest flower in all the earth though glittering like 

the moon, 
Will flourish in the morning and fade away at noon. 

Down by yon stream that's purling,, or in some shady 
Or through some shady forest in solitude I rove, [grove, 
Where birds sing melancholy notes, th<j cuckoo in her 

turn, 
I view the halts a leaping and hear the turtle mourn. 

By fancy led to a river's side, I roved the banks alon|f, 
To view tho small fish sporting, still fancy led me on, 
Where many flowers grew on each bank, but there ivarj 

none for me, 
I will cast a look of cold disdain on every one I see. 

I'll wipe away each falling tear, and let my cheek be dry, 
And on such fading flowers 1 will no more cast an eye, 
I'll take one that i$ i^ot full blown, I'll pluck it in 

the bud, 
Lest when it bloom, .>ome nortiiern blast ^may cause it 

for to fade. ' ' !' '' 



hf 



20 



THE STOLEN ROSE. 

Down by some wood or shady grove to ease my troub- 
led mind, 

My fancy wanders up and down some comfort for to find, 

But yet I cannot find the one with sweet and pleasant 
smell, 

'Mongst many flowers I cannot find the one to please me 
well. 

1 wander in some lonely plain al morning and at eve, 
Where aromatic shrubs and flowers do fragrant make the 

breeze, 
But yet I cannot find the one with sweet and pleasant 

smell, 
'Mongst many flowers I cannot find the one to please 

me well. 

Resolved to leave off wandering and give my rambles 

o'er, 
Contented with moic humble sweets and flowers to seek 

no more, 
But very late one evening as I returned home, 
1 saw a rose bud opening, it was not yet full blown. 

I viewed it with a jealous eye to see the leaves expand, 

And nearly had 1 taken it into my wishful hand, 

But thought to pluck it in the dew that sweeter it might 

be. 
But little thought some treacherous foe would steal the 

same from me. 

I left it standing on the stalk and went my way to rest, 
Still thought of all the floweis I'd seen', the opening 

rose was best — 
But ah, alas, how soon our joys our comforts will decay. 
For ere I rose to take the prize, it had been stolen away, 

I thought to have pluck' d it dripping wet with pearly 

drops of dew, 
In hopes that longer it might bloom and fairer to my 

view, 



21 



J thouglit (o have locked it in my breast the safer fox to 

keep, 
In hopes the odoriferous smell would sooth me while 

asleep, 

My rose will wither when I'm gone unto some distant 

shore, 
Because she slighted me that loved, for loving only her, 
When the morn of grief does o'er her rise she'll wither 

and decay, 
Aad then she'll curse the treacherous hand that stole her 

quite away. 



THE AUTHOR'S SITUATION. 

I am an old man I work hard for my living — 

My wife she is sickly, and children are small, 
Neither ox, plough or harrow to raise my provision, 
By the sweat of my face I earn bread for them all. 

Six children I have and a seventh bespoken, 
Which soon will appear, if misfortune don't fall— 
My neighbors lament say of paupers there's a token, 
But 1 hope with my health to earn bread for them all. 

The names of my boys are John H. and A. Tiyon, 
Tlie third one wc commonly call Stephen B.— . 
The fourth is Will Rily, as fierce as a lion, 
The voungest Moroni, and (hen Robert E, 



ON AN INFANT. 

The choicest gift that nature's God 

On mortals can bestow, 
The portrait of an angel sent 

To dwell with us below. 



22 

Mary, t!ioii sweet and precious LuJ 

or innocence divine, 
May virtue ever in thy breast 

With brillbnt lustre ehine. 

TIiou now must own Camcena's sway 

While in thy tender years, 
Curiia by thy cradle stands 

To calm ihy infant feais. 

And may thy parents still behold 

In thee the spotless form, 
Till thou art mingled v.ilh the dust 

A prey unto the worm. 

When Gabriel's trump shall wake the dead 

May thou with them arise, 
Escorted by angelic bands, 

Ascend unto the skies ; 

Where love and harmony do leign,^ 

And death is felt no more ; 
May thou arrive without a blast 

On Canaan's peaceful shore. 



WORK FOR NOTHING. 

As I walked forth one day 

With bat little to say, 
I called at an Inn for my dinner, 

Moments to beguile ; 

There I sat down a while, 
I espied a man they call'd Skinner 

He said Uncle Bob, 
I'm at work by (he job, 



23 



I a.-n busy at driUing for water ; 

Ere ihe week does cftme round, 

There's a man in the town, 
That lb lawfully wed to my daughter. 

To him I'll repair 

Without trouble or care, 
And then I'll have money a plenty. 

A dcposite I've made^ 

Now don't be afraid, 
Theraaro dollars I think five and twenty. 

He said, in this place 

There's no cash at the base— 
At the surface there is no redundance ; 

But to gravity's centre ' 

The earth we will enter, 
And there we will find an abundance. 

Foui days and a half 

I worked like a calf, 
And often without any dinner ; 

When I came to my board, 

They cry'd oat good Lord, 
Have you come on account of old Skinner 1 

Expense to defray, 

My cash i did pay, 
And still I was digging for treasure ; 

I said, Mr. Skinner, 

Pm in want of my dinner, 
You may take it just when you have leisure. 

Wedrtll'ddowneulow 



24 



I heard the cock crow, 
It must have been*gravity's centre : 

He put down his pump. 

Up and down it did thump, 
But- no gold throuoh the valve did there enter. 



TO TPIE EAGLE. 

Thou Eagle soars toward the sky, 
Thy flight is^always sure ; 

Beneath thy great auspicious wing 
I laid me down secure. 

I paid full twelve cents and a half 

To rest on strawy bed, 
My cash I then deposited 

Beneath my wearj head. 

But'in the morn'vvhen I arose, 

I wish'd a stimulation, 
I then stepp'd forth beneath thy wing. 

(The standard of our nation.) 

1 thrust my hand to find my purse. 
But there I found no change ; 

I felt myself like any dog 
In every place is strange. 

My host refused to give a glass 

My mind for to inspire, 
And when 1 said my cash was stole, 

He call'd me a d— d liar. • 



25 



PONTIAC. 

I am an old man, I am something in years— 
I have travelled the countr}- tar and near, 
For wealth and for wisdom I always did lack — 
But I'll make a few verses for Pontiac. 

It's a place of great business — a grist and saw naiU- 
Two Blacksmith's shops and a whiskey still, 
A factory too, to make cloth for the back, — 
And this is the village of Pontiac. 

The miller is Buckland, a very good man, 
If you don't take a bag you lose your bran — 
But the weight of your flour you seldom do lack — > 
And this is the custom at Pontiac. 

Two taverns, a merchant, and a hatter likewise - 
And who can a village like this despise ? 
They have got two doctors, a transient quack — 
These are the physicians of Pontiac. 

And as for their squires, upon my soul, 
There's Gideon 0. and Sidney Dole, 
They'll issue a warrant to slap on your back— 
A h— U of a place is Pontiac. 

And there's the man that lives over the bridge, 
Nearly half way to the top of the ridge, 
He'll run with a summons the night ne'er so black, 
He's some officer's buni of Pontiac. 

And there is the hatter I'm sure he's no fool, 
He'll make you a hat of coarsest of wool, 
Tuck in a few hairs that he shaved from a rat, 
And sell it for beaver in Pontiac. 

There's stitch with his needle, he sets on his board, 



He says he works cheaper than he can afford— 

-" But for eilk and for trimmings you always do lack,'' 

And this is the tailor of Pontiac. 

''• The carpenter says he will build you a house, 
So close and so snug it wont harbor a mouse/' 
But \vhen the work's done you ^vill find a great crack, 
And these are the joiners of Pontiac. 

They wont work for less than ten shillings per day, 
A quart or three pints of whiskey, we'll say, 
And for all this great wages, at business ths}'re slack, 
They spend half their time in Pontiac. 

And there's old JMcCracken, can make a g-ood brooT), 
For weaving of baskets his knees is his loom. 

You'll see him come down with a load on his back 

He supplies the people of Pontiac. 

And there's the stag merchant he lives at his ease, 
He'll promise you any ihin^-, just what you please, 
But give him the advantage, he'll take the shirt from 

your back, 
He's the greatest rascall in all Pontiac. 



ON THE DEATH OF MRS. LeROY, 

Alas the bell is tolling loud, 

Oh sorrowful the day— 
The body wrapped within a shroud, 

The spirit's soar'd away 

To realms beyond our mortal sight, 

Whence it willne'er return, 
1 mourn and weep the livclonff ni^Tht 

O'er my Almira's urn. 



27 

The grave is now preparing' fasi 

To take her gcntlo form, 
I must resign her earthly grace 

Unto the rutWess worm. 

In memory slill thy form I view, 

Thy charms my heart inlhral, - ' v 

The briny drops my cheeks bedew 
As I attend thy pall. 

Ye mourners harpe, nov.vsirike the sotrnd 

Of sympathy and Jove, 
Her clay is mingled wiib the ground,' ' ' 

Her spirit soaied above. 

When Gabriel's trump shall rcud the skies, 
Upon the judgment u)orn, '" 

Renewed virtue will ansa 
From my Ahnii-ii's urn. 



THE SHAVER. 

As i w.Ts travelling to and fro, 

I came unto Ann Arbor ; 
My beard was long, I could not find 

A solitary barber. 

They said tlierewas a d-^acon there 
That was tlie best of shaver. 

His weight and measure both were fciisc, 
He shaved without a razor. 

We left Ohio, March the first, 
To WashtGiiaw were bound, 

Contracted there with deacon P. 
At fifty n)ills per pound 

For cattle good as any were, 
Their hair was short and thin ; 



28 

He took the beef for shaving thein, 
And rob'd us of the skin. 

For when he came to weigh them out, 
His beam was long and slender, 

His poise it was a mighty one, 
I wish you to remember. 

Deacons study gospel trutli, 
And pray when thej have leisure ; 

But 'tis said that they will go to hell 
For counter weight and measure. 

But if a speculation beams 

In deacon's mind at day, 
He'll wait till night, before he bends 

His humble knee to pray. 

He robs his God of praises due, 

To nature he's a curse. 
And notes or cash he gets in hand 

He's loath to reimburse. 



LIXABOGA. 

If you'll listen unto me, 
I'll tell you something comical— 
In Pontiac lives Lixabogue, 
Who edited ihe Chronicle. 

They took away his press and types, 
Sure you may well be thinking, 
He had no way to ease his heart 
But to take afill of drinking. 

This is a land of liberty, 
Sure he may take his pleasure, 
He may take his grog by weight. 
Or take i[ by small measure. 



29 

And as he was dunking thus, 
Just to soak his palate, 
The lawyer took a lick at Lix, 
And hit him with his mallet. 

As soon as he had gave the blow, 
'Twas fun for to behold him, 
He threw the mallet down and run, 
For fear old Lix would bogue him. 

And as he ran he took his flight 
Right through Straight Back's garden,- 
If I've offended any man, 
I humbly beg his pardOn, 

He knew the doctor had two coats, 
And he was for dividing, 
And piece one out among the poor, 
For which they're him deriding. 

He ne'er saw a poor man barefoot go 
If he could find a shoe. 
Taught in the Jeffersonian school. 
He's democrat true blue. 

There's many folks they do nick-name, 
For instance, there's old Togee, 
There's many a man in Pontiac 
Far worse than Lixaboga. 



THE BIRTH AND PROGRESS OF 

ROBERT Mccracken. 

In the county of Hampton, state of Penn, 
How it came to pass I dinna ken, 



But yet I think as I've been told, 
It happened as in days of old ; 
And generations yet unborn, 
I think the mode will never scoi;;. 
I On May twenty third, in. seventy seven, 
I Between the hours of ten and eleven, 
I Of every robe and garment lacking, 
I They caught a thing called Bob McGrackcn 
I Thevcry first breath t gave a sepall 
Which pleased my mother most cf all — 
Then my old grandmother felt elate, 
To think that she had been so great 
To catch my father's youngo&t son — 
Thus her encomium begun : 
"My loving daughter do not fear, 
Thou'st borne a son — dry every tear-- 
I think I view on infanta faco 
His father's nominative case ,- , 

Now just to keep the babe from harra^ 
We'll put on clothes to keep him warm. 
His eye is dark, his f<.atnres mild, 
I see some virtue in the child | 
A preacher maybe—who can tell — ■ 
To keep tho souls of men from hcii, 
Or editorial functions follow, 
Strain at a gnat, a Camel swallow, 
A Lawyer — ah • what will it cost, 
If that's the case the boy is lost — " 
I lay so snug on mother's arm, 
I fleither thought or dream't of barm, 
" tieaven has sent this child to greet us." 
But better for me had I perished a fcetui'. 
Than come into a ^orid ot care and troubk 
To pas3 out agam like an airy ^^ubbjc. 



31 



My father expired before I was, born, 

My mother wag left a widow forlorn— 

And she like most if not every other, 

Was to me a tender mothpr^— ; 

But my old grandmother took the job 

To educate her httle Bob ; 

And ere I arrived at the age of seven, 

She taught me that two onc3 made eleven. 

And before I could handle mv little axe-heUo 

'Said one and two makes twelve — 

Then she called me her darhng son, 

Said two and one makes twenty-one. 

Fiom thence a rovi.ig round creation, 

I received my education. 

Perusing history, and such things— 

In groves and vales conversed with Kings — • 

And when a wandering o'er the plain, 

Hov/ sweet is the sound of Tully's name— - 

Demosthenes I sometimes greet ; 

With Socrates I often meet, 

And when I'm in a lonely spot, 

Hold converse with Sir Walter Scott ; 

And as around I take my turns, 

I often chat with Robert Burns. 

Though I esteem the Scottish bard, 

I sometimes think he speaks too hard. 

He does not v;ith the muses play 

So easy as our William Rey, 

Now there arc diamonds in the crust, 

That they should come to light is just j 

Then why should poor old uncle Bob 

Still toil so hard to break the sod 1 



32 

ON DRINKING TEA. 

I have been highly compHmented 
With the ladies to take tea — 

When I was young, I thought it pleasure 
In their company to be. 

But ah, those days are gone and over, 
Young I never more shall be, 

All my pleasure with the ladies 
Is to take a cup of tea. 



ON THE DEATH OF DAVID L. PORTER. 
Come Pontiac and shed a tear, 
When the pall bearers raise the bier, 

To bear it to the tomb. 
They now are going to bear away 
The sohtary lifeless clay 

That yesterday did bloom. 

Ye mourner's harps responsive sound, 
While we do mingle with the ground 

Friend Doctor Porter's clay — 
It's freed from all the care and strife 
That's incident to human life — 

His spirit's soard away. 

When Gabriel's trump aloud shall sound, 
To wake the nations under ground 

They'll reunite again, 
Join the celestial throng aboA^p 
Who dwell in harmony and love. 

Forever free'd from pain, 



33 



ASTRONOMICAL EXCURSION OF THE 
FANCY. 

Sistor dear, you will excuse 

The trials of an lafant muse — 
At poetry he attempts to write, 

Yet fearful he cannot indite. 

But if the muse will courted be, 
By such a rustic bard as me, 
' I nevei will forsake ray love, 

So long as she will constant prove. 

For why should I my vow, forsake, 
And every pledge of honor break 1 

The muses chaste as Flora are, 
Therefore I never will despair. 

For when my heart is swell'd with grief, 
They do afford me quick relief ; 

They change my darkness into day 
Then through the air I soar away 

In mind. I leave my body here, 

And to each glittering star 1 steer ; 

When in reflection quite absorb'd, 
I view each floating in its orb. 

How vast the great immensity! 

How many planets do we see ; 
That sun that lights us here below, 

His magnitude we cannot know. 

We do enjoy the light he gives, 

ilnd by his warmth each creature lives ; 

He makes our fields in verdure grow, 
To nourish raortab here below. 

C 



34 



There's Newton thought he did obtain 
Views more correct than Thomas Paine 

They differ far by many a mile, 
The ig-norant they oft beguile. 

Then why should any mortal man, 
Whose days are nothing but a span, 

Deity's works investigate, 

Who from the earth did him create ? 



^CHILDHOOD. 

When I think on my days of childhood, 

H!ow romantic they appear, 
Through the valley, grove, and wild- wood, 

what pleasure I took there. 

When I was weary plucking flowers, 
My mother soothed me into rest, 

1 reflect upon the hours 

When T lean'd upon her breast. 

But ah, these days are past and over, 
My mother 'b wrapp'd up in a shroud. 

My youthful pleasures now are cover'd 
By adversity's thick cloud. 



Doctor Thompson studied long- 
As ere I did to make a song, 

'Twas then reveal'd to him in a dream, 
How to make a mud machine. 

I have heard some people call him lazy, 
Otheii; fools pronounce him crazy — 



35 



But let them all say what they will, 

There's brains in the head of Doctor Bil 



ON SEEING A MAN IN JAIL FOR DEBT, 

As I was walking in the street, 
Through iron grates was peeping. 

A bird that was shut in a cage, 
His mate at homo was weeping, 

Poor little bird, why is it thus, 
They took thee fram thy Poll 

Thy body hid within a grate, 
Thy head out through a hole/' 

The genial warmth that nsed to cheer 

Thy tender little young, 
Is now neglected, thou art gone, 

Thy nest is left alone. 

But ah the cruel tyrant's hand, 

That has it in his power 
To rob man of his Hberty, 

But for one single hour. 



ON PLACING Dr. PORTER'S TOMB STONE, 

Now I have placed the marble well, 

Above the bones of David L.— 

A man of such superior merit, 

None his virtues do inherit— 

With honor steer'd his course throughlife— 



bi 



36 



Freed fr-om the world, its care and strife, 
Resigned his breath to God who gave it, 
Physicians there were none could save it. 



A DREAM. 

When slumber closed my weary eyes. 
My mind was struck with great surprise 
To find myself in council hall, 
Where I beheld things great and small. 

As sure as I lay on my bed, 
I saw a goose a gander tread — 
I wish'd for farther information 
On such unseemly generation. 

I said if you have no objection , 
I'll submit a question for reflection — 
The hall was silent at the sound, 
My question then I. did propound 

Ye council men, I ask of you, 
My observations will'bc few — 
I wish to know what you can make 
Without the assistance of a Drake. 

I think that Oakland deserves some slander 
For sending a goose to tread a gander, 
Next season if our election lucks 
We'll send a Drake to tread your ducks. 

The ducks may quack and in mud paddle. 
If there's no drcke the eggs prove addle. 
The shells are filled with foul corruption, 
Without a Drake there's no production. 



37 



ON BEHOLDING TEIE RETURN OP fciPRING. 

See the violtts a blooming 

In the verdant time of spriufj, 

View the birds of varied feather- 
Hark, hovi^ sweetly they do sing. 

See the fields all clad in verdure, 

Forest deck'd with living green- 
Hear the rivulets gently murmur, 
Corae with me enjoy the scene. 

Lo the zephyrs gently fanning, 
Murmur throu'gU the lofty trees, 

Spicy shrubs the air perfuming, 
Wafted on the gentle breeze. 

Why not now indulge the fancy, 

Fleeting moments to beguile, 
Lo all vegetated nature 

Does invite thee witli a smile. 

Ah my frame is very feeble, 

I am wasting with disease, 
With Flora you may spend an hour, 

But excuse me if you please. 

My vital spark is fast decaying, 
Soon my sorrows will be o'er. 

Think of me when I'm departed 
To Elysium's peaceful shore. 

Banish every rancor'd feeling 
When you lay me in the tomb, 

I repent of each expression 

That has caused you grief or gloom. 

Pardon every earthly passion 



38 

That has led me far astray, 
When, with this body unencumbered, 
1 to heaven shall soar away, 



THE RACE. 

In Pontiac they do great feats, 

From six till nine they run the heats, 

From that till twelve they take a rub, 
Bring on a race they call a scrub ; 

Where Pony Brown some times advances. 
Then falls behind, 'tis just as chance is; 

To night! have heard what the work is, 

They're going to run to catch some Turkey' 

Hov.'ard rnd^Thompson gave a boost, 
And hoisted three on Stanard's roost — 

They'll have their own, there'll be nofail 
They'll clip all Stanard's turkey's tails. + 



+They cut the tails to designate them from Stansrd' 
turkeys. 



ON AN INFANT. 
By request of its father. 

Thou precious bud of innocence- 
Thou nature's choicest gem— 

Thou aUtliy parents chiefest joy, 
As such esteemed by them. 

No briars yet thy path impede, 
A ro&9 bud choice and fair. 



39 

Thou dost not yet thy leaves unfold 
To flattery's poison air. 

But when the bud is^fully grown, 
And leaves begin to expand, 

May innocence the flower protect 
From every ruthless hand. 

And may the dew of virtue grace 
The flower, when in bloom, 

And every leaf unspetted be, 
Till thou art in the tomb. 

May Heaven be thy deatin'd port, 

Virtue thy polar star, 
Religion's magnet thou pursue 

Will guide to realms afar. 



ON CHRISTMAS 

This Christmas morning just view, 
Neighbor with neighbor meeting — 
A merry Christmas — the same to you— 
And thus each other greeting. 

See the quacks and lawyers strut, 
?Iantled in Circassian, 
Old McCracken digging graveg 
Which long has been in fashion. 

By and by they'll lay their bodies down, 
Their pomp they will resign — 
And with a sod they will be crown'd, 
Their back as cold as mine. 



40 

ON SUNDAY. 

On Sunday go to Pontiac, 

You'll see the folks a streeting— 
Some to the tavern, some the store, 

And some are going to meeting. 

The most respectful men in town, 
You'll find them at the inn — 

Some drink Brandy, some drink rum, 
And some will take some gin. 

But as for poor old uncle Bob — 
He does not feel so frisky. 

But if you set a bottle on, 
He'll take a little whiskey. 



ON BEING INTRODUCED TO GOV. MASON. 

Friend Stevens T., 

I hope I see 
Your honor in good health sir. 

May you be bless'd 

From heavens chest, 
With wisdom and with wealth sir. 

May bards prolong 

Thy name in song. 
And scribes on history's pages, 

Like Burns and Scott 

Be ne'er forgot, 
Throughout the lapse of ages. 

Until this world 's 
To chaos hurl'dj 



41 

And melts in conflagration- 
May we support 
In every court, 

The honor of the nation. 



TO A PRINTER. 

1 teil you sir, Mr. McKnight 
In your paper I take delight — 
I saw one just the other day, 
As I was trcivelhng on my way. 

I never was brought up at college, 

But always had a thirst for knowledge — 

I am pool and pennyless, 

But if you'll send me from your press 

A vehicle of knowledge and information, 
That I 'mongst men may hold a station, 
In common science and literature, 
It's what I wish, although I'm poor. 

And when your papers you are packing, 
Just put up one for old McCrackon, 
And send it out to Pontiac, 
To the care of O, Straight Back. 

Now if that you should think it best, 
To grant the poor old man's request — 
Long as my mind remains observant, 
ril try to be your humble servant. 



CLINTON. 
Wl?y .should we Clinton's banks esteem 



42 

Inferior to those of A>r, 

When we have poet's numbers here, 

As well as they had there 7 

There are many villages 
Along the banks of Clyde, 
But Pontiae's a pretty place 
Upon the CHnton's side. 

The muses too are every day 
On Clinton's banks a sporting — 
Who can reject such beauteous nymphs, 
When all they want is courting ? 

Old Scotland boasts her Robert Burns, 
And England her lord Byron, 
Columbia may exult in turn, — 
The muse they cant environ. 

For we can boast our William Rey, 

And our old Bob McCracken ! 

If they too sharply at us play. 

To the d 1 we'll send them packing. 

THE AUTHOR'S RESENTMENT ON BEING 
CALLED A POETASTER. 

You have styl'd me a poetee. 
Or else a poetaster — 
If I've no learning should I be 
Lampoon'd for my disaster ? 

If you have learning, I am sure 
I wish I had your knowledge — 
You have been bred to literature, 
Perhaps have been to college. 



43 

Such classics, taught by college rules. 
Are plenty in our nation. 
Esteem the wisest men as fools, 
If they lack education. 

Why do you then, if science's wing 
Her shadow o'er you cast, 
Esteem the unlearn' d as a leaf 
That's driven by the blast. 

A Poet has a muse he courts, 
And each one courts his own, 
There's nine of them I think they say, 
So they are not alone. 

But mine as chaste as Flora is, 
She loves the rural groves, 
She's courted not by classic men, 
Nor through the college roves. 



ON TOLLING THE BELL. 

As 1 was walking on the road, 

I heard the big bell toll — 
In the house where people go to get 

A cordial for their soul. 

There the parson stands and preaches up 

Repentance, and salvation 
To every one that will repent 

Around thii wide creation. 

Has'nt he repented of his sins. 

It's to be hoped he may — 
Or ■ Ise with shame he'll show his face 

Upon the judgment day. 

Jehovah says he does not dwell 
In temples made with hands, 

But to receive the humble soul 
He always ready stands. 

Who is there then that cant adore 



44 



A God so good as ours — 
The King of Kings and Lord of Lords, 
Tiie Sovereign of all powers. 



THE AUTHOR'S IMPATIENCE EXPRESSED. 

Friend Arthur Sparhawk, 

There's no profit in talk, 
Unless v/e can come to the matter. 

I want my work done, 

I'm indeed not in fun, 
That folks over my verses may chatter. 

I compose not by rule — 

They may call me a fool, 
But wit from a fool tliey may gather 

If they are not grammar, 

At them they may hammer ; 
But give me the length of my tether. 

I am somewliat involved — 

Now the mystery's solved, 
I need not say any thing farther. 

If my goods sold at stake — 

It VtTould ms quite break — 
Can this be neglect of friend Arthur ? 

Mj children are small, 

I have helps none at all, 
My wife's almost gone with consumption ; 

Folks say I'll break down — 

And come on the town, 
This appears to be now the presumption. 

But with patience [ look 

For the aid of my book, 
Wiiile the light in the west is declining, 

I will still cherish hope 

As throui,h darkness I grope, 
For to morrow the light will be shining, 

I toil many day 
While others do play 



Earn bread by the sweat of my face, 

And if now I can gain 

By the sap of my brain, 
I am sure it will be no disgrace. 



FOR A YOUNG LADY. 

By reque.st. 

Dearest Nancy, what's thy trouble, 
Now at blooming dawn of life 1 
Sure thy sorrows will be double 
When thou dost become a wife. ' 

When children are around thee crying^, 
Then thy care is just begun, 
To soothe their sorrow thou'lt be trying 
From rising to the setting sun. 

Thy nocturnal slumber will be brolien, 
Visions rush around thee thick, 
Now a groan — ah! there's a token— 
1 fear my little babe is sick. 

Thus the wife hath many a sorrow 
Which a maid can never feel — 
Soothe thyself, and do not borrow 
Trouble that thou cant conceal. 

Cheer up therefore, dearest Nancy, 
Let not grief thy mind corrode, 
Let it be thy clhefest fancy 
Still to love and serve thy God. 



ON NEW YEAR. 

O liail to the new year, the new year the nev; year ! 

The globe on its axes again has rolled round ; 
Last night was the old year, the old year the old year, 

This morning the new year again we have found. 



46 



T© reflect on scenes of vexation and sorrow. 
That during the last year each day did abound, 

May joy and content grace to-day and to-morrow, 
And each subsequent day of the year all around. 

Our globe has performed her annual motion, 

And visited planets in regions afar, 
There's Jupiter, Venus, and Herschel's dark ocean, 

To mariners there she appeared like a star. 

O hail to the day when we are united, 

Then Columbians fear neither tumult nor war, 

May Norvell and Lyon fulfil their commission, 
And add to our banner the Michigan star. 



THE INDIAN EXCITEMENT. 

They tell me of late 
There is news through the State, 
An excitement is raised at the west, 
The son3 of the plain 
From Prairie du Chiene, 
Have come down with their buttocks undress'd. 

The news when it came, 
Threw Detroit in a flame, 
And each man's petition ascends — 
Come boys take the sword, 
We will march at the word, 
We will fight for "wife, children and friends." 

Brave captain Peer, 
The news he did hear, 
A company call'd for at random — 
Our friends at the west, 
The rude tribes do infest, 
Come march on boyig we'll defend 'emc 



47 



Of him it is said, 
He's a stranger to lead, 
And of powder he knew not the power- 
Like in tempest or hail, 
He thought without fail, 
He could stand by a tree through the shower. 

Like brave captain John, 
As mentioned in song, 
He goes out, for Indians he seeks— 
By and by he came in 
With nine holes in his skin, 
And the blood did encumber his breeks. 

A gentleman wrote 
The Captain a note, 
Expressing his anxious desire — 
But captain Peer knew, 
By instinct so true 
That flint and steel's apt to make fire. 

When his life was at stake, 
He did tremble and quake. 
His blood he considered a jewel — • 
I will keep it to spill 
At my country's will, 
I wont risk it in fighting a duel. 

I made this in the night, 
When my mind was aflight, 
To serve you I always am willing— 
I work all the day, 
While others do play 
And no one bestows me a shilling. 



48 



A RIDDLE. 

I never ara seen or found in creation, 

But when the world was, 1 then look my station ; 

I've no business in earth, you may think it absurd, 

Yet no nation without me could utter a word. 

I am no physician or quack you may i^ee, 

Yet there is no lawyer exists without me ; 

I have nothing to do in sickness or health, 

But always am t'orem-ost in wisdom and wealth ; 

I have nothing to do v/ith the rich or the great, 

1 never do meddle in church or in state ; 

With Vv^ashington always I went to the war, 

I am still with the wounded, but never in scar, 

In France or in England! never am found, 

I am alv/ays in water but never in ground. 



A RIDDLE. 

I am small but yet have a place in creation, 

I was not v/ith the ancients, nor yet in the flood ; 
1 was present when Adam committed transgression, 

From thence with the righteous I ahvays have stood 
1 was present when Noah the ark was a building, 

And in that great vessel the second was found, 
Iwas in the water when he was a sailing, 

And afier he landed Istax^ed in the ground. 



My worthy friend if you had wrote, 
Some time ago, say Monday — 
I might have had my mind compos' d 
We'll say, perhaps, by Sunday. 

But all the week I labor hard, 
^•y work calls my attention, 
I cannot fix my mind upon 
Poetical invention. 

I've read the poem, number one, 
1 think it not delusion, 
I'm not disposed to ridicule, 
His classical effugion. 



49 

But he has call'rl on men of old, 
I think he mentions Howard — 
But Captain Peer's of modern date, 
They say he is a coward. 

Now I will let those heroes brave, 
Who're famed in ancient story, 
Lie sleeping silent in their grave, 
They've gained immortal glory. 

The man has soared quite out of sight, 
I cannot see his wings, 
He like the lark erects his crest, 
Flies through the air and sings. 



A COMPLIMENT 

To the Printer^ for a Paper, 

Dear sir, your favor of the press, 
I perused with great attention — 
You have some feelings there expresg'd, 
That I dare never mention. 

I've view'd the bees upon the plain, 
And on the buckwheat fields — 
But Hickory's expanding bud. 
The sweetest honey yields. 

There's Barup goes through Pontiac, 
A more quack politician, 
And when a stranger he dees meet, 
He takes a firmi poailion. 

He says he well does understand 
The politics of the nation — 
And now he boldly bears a hand, 
Against administration. 



He says my bojs you need not fesar 



d 



50 

We soon shall gain the victory, 
With n unifying and banking clubs, 
We'll beat down all the Hickory. 

But hickory, when young is very tough, 
It's springy and quite limber ; 
At middle growth, for threshing flaila 
It is the best of timber. 

When old, it makes good axle-trees 
To guide a mighty car — 
It rolls as safe on hickory 
As globe on polar star. 

And if Great Britain once again 
Against us war should wage, 
They'll find the toughest hickory 
Produced at Hermitage. 

And while the wheels are rolling round. 
And threshing flails are smacking, 
You'll find some tough old hickory 
In Uncle Bob McCracken. 



On Replenishing a Store ivilh Goods after it 
had stood a long time empty. 

INTRODUCTION. 

I have long been resting in suspense, 
And if you will take no offence, 

To hear my simple lay — 
I'll give you now a verse or more 
In honor of your present store, 

And then I'll go away. 



51 

THE REPLENISHED STORE, 
By Request. 

Thou space that long hath empty stood, 

While strangers seldom call, 
They now have furnish'd well with goods 

Thy ornamented wall. 

Europe's and India's costly ware. 

Within thee now is sold, 
And every one can have a share, 

According to his gold. 

My cash ic is but very light, 

And credit none at all, 
So when the dividend is made, 

My portion will be small. 

And there's a man with his glass eyes, 

Surveys thee o'er and o'er, 
It makes no odds what the Day Book says, 

The Ledger calls for move. 

There's Eiish as social as a groom, 

And every thing goes handy, 
When dry, steps back in the counting roomj 

And takes a little brandy. 

It is but little I can say, 

Now judge ye how it suits- 
Think it" the store deserved the verse^ 

Dont the verse deserve the boots ? 

And if you think that that's too muchj 
Ne'er ask me court the muse — 

For surely she would me neglc:!; 
If rd no booU or ^hoes. 



52 



She was found on Ayr, by Robert Burnsj 

Clad in his gay attire — 
But had she met old bare foot Bob, 

She would not him admire ! 



THE AUTHOR'S FIRST RECOLLECTIONS. 

As into this country, somehow I did pop — 
When first I fell into the arms and the lap, 
My mother sighed o'er me, and thus made her moan : 
My dear little babe thou wast born all alone. 

I remember the time when the bridle was got 
To fetch my old grandmother right on the spot, 
To welcome me into a world then unknown, 
And from darkness to light I jump'd in all alone. 

I remember the time when they hung up the saddle. 
When the table was spread and the dishes did rattle. 
Where many sat round it, each gnawing their bone. 
But they tucked me away in the cradle alone. 

But very soan after I opened my throat, 

The cradle was rocking and I was afloat, 

I thought they would send me to regions unknown, 

But I wished for to slop here awhile, all alone. 

My mother fell sick at the sight she had seen, 
Her dear little Bob was so young and so green, 
There she gave me her nipple instead of a bone, 
And there I lay tugging, myself all alone. 

My brother before me full seven years past — 
He was the first son and i was the last, 
Long time he's been dead and as cold as a stone,, 
And here I remain now mvseif all alone. 



53 



CURE FOR LOVE. 

Come al! you ohicken-heavted beaux, 
That e'er have been in love, 
1 am one who every symptom knows, — 
Your doctor I will pi'ove. 

Attend to my prescription, 
'Twill ease you of your paiti — 
The first ihing that I recommend, 
Is a cordial of disdain. 

One pound oi resolution, 

You'll find it very good, 

I would have you powder it very fine^ 

And mix it with your food. 

Three grains of self-denial. 
To keep your stomach clear, — 
Now try this last experiment 
The twelfth part of a year. 

Of understanding a penny weight, 
I would have you fasting take — 
And this repeated for a month, 
It will the fever break. 

Of hatred take, a half an ounce, 
Forgetfulness, a pound—- 
And this in less than forty days 
Will heal you, well and sound. 

To find the above ingredients, 
I wish you to apply 
To the apothecary — wisdom— 
And do not pass him by. 

You'll find his house in constant street, 
Engraven on the door, 



54 

" The township of forgelfuhiesSj 
And county, love no more/' 



A' DREAM. 

I dream'd I vvalk'd in Pontiac 
And chanced to pass a stable, 

I heard a man a praying there 
As hard as he was able. 

"Father of mercies," he did sayj 
And thus his prayer commences ; 

He prayed the Lord to bless his soul 
And pardon past offences. 

As various as the looks of men, 

So are their dispositions, 
When they address the throne of grace. 

How different their petitions. 

The lawyer prays for clients fat, 
And lawsuits quite a number, 

That minds of Judge and Jury both 
At court he may encumber. 

The miller prays for loaded carts, 
And sacks quite large and full, 

That he may steal your bag and grist, 
And rob you of the toll. 

The merchant prays for customers 
To buv his goods that's stale, 

For if they don't get off his hands, 
The establishment will fail. 

The cobbler pra\s for leather cheap; 



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And feet to u-ear his shoes out j 
He'll drive a peg in here and (here, 
That they may easy bruise out. 

The tailor prays for bodkin good, 

The best of shears and thimble, 
And when he gets a job for cash, 
^ His fingers play quite nimble. 

The parson prays quite solemnly- — 
He prays for a donation, 

And if you give him fifty cents 
He'll pray for your salvation. 



ANSWER TO THE QUESTION, 

Why the author did not devote mere time to the Muses, 

Dear sir, my circumstance is Io\y, ^ 

My labor takes my time, 
My wife is sick, my children small, 

I have no chance to rhyme. 

For when the muse is sporting round. 

And sun sunk in the west, 
My weary bones do then demand 

This time to go to rest. 

Biit often when I've laid me down 

Upon my strawy bed, 
The muses are a hovering 
Like fairies round my head. 

1 often feel that I could wish 

My muse awhile to spark, 
Tho' chaste as Flora, yet she is 

Still fondest in the dark. 



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For when bright Phcebus does appear, 

She often flies away — 
With me all night she will not sport, 

Bat little in the day. 

I sometimes meet her wandering 

Upon the flowery plain, 
And then if there is no one near, 

Her favor I can gain. 

Sometimes at eve I meet her too, 

Among the lofty trees — 
When there's no sound for to be heard 

But the soft gentle breeze. 

Or by some gentle purling stream, 

In solitary place — 
And when I chance to meet her there, 
^ With rapture she'll embrace. 

She truly is a friend to me, 

And has been very kind, 
For often times she has assuag'd 

The sorrows of my mind. 

I wish she might abide with me, 

And never more depart — 
For if she does a load of grief 

Will surely break my heart. 



ON SEEING A VERY HANDSOME YOUNG 

MAN. 

How many features I behold, 
Thsy do appear as pure as gold, 
When mine appear as blocked from tin. 



57 



But their's polite refined and thin. 

1 wish that I could have their knowledge, 
They have perhaps been bred at college- 
There is one instance 1 am sure, 
I should been bred to literature. 

But as my lot on earth did fall, 
My learning is but very small ; 
They call mc Uncle Bob the poet, 
But very (c\v shall ever know it. 

I am fettered with misfortunes's chain, 
Which makes me occupy my brain, 
Oft with a backvvard disposition, 
That men may think on my condition. 

But when the muse does hover round, 
I often catch the softest sound, 
Retire to some lonely place, 
And in my arms I her embrace. 



A TALE OF SORROW. 

Come hsten to an aged man, 
His plaintive tale of sorrow— 
I know what I have seen to-day, 
But cannot tell to-morrow. 

My days are spent in toil and care, 
My nights in restless dreams — 
I am almost driven to despair, jI 

Life like a burden seems. 

vSix boys I had of blooming hue, 
But one lays in his grave — 



58 

Nov/ to the rest I bid adieu, 
No comfort can I have. 

My once loved wife, I bid adieu 
To al! your potent cliarms — 
When I am gone I'll think of you 
That once lay in my arms. 

Sometimes with down my path jou etrew. 
Sometimes with prickly pear, 
With gall and worm- wood mix my food, 
Which drives nie to despair. 



The v/orm-wood and the gall, 

For thou that once did claim my love 

Now hates me worst of all. 



FELICITY. 

Dear sir I socially do greeet you, 
Because your wife has come to meet you, 
A prayer is all that I can give, 
But yet I wish 50U long may live 

To enjoy connubial affection, 
And ne'er indulge the least reflection 
Of griefs, and sorrows now gone by, 
But true felicity enjoy. 

She crowns the matrimonial state — 
She ought to dwell with rich and great— 
But peasant's hamlet only knows, 
Where true felicity repose. 

But oft she leaves the peasant's cot, 



59 



B}' him has often been forgot, 

When wife does scold and children cry, 

Felicity he can't enjoy. 

Sometimes he to his neighbor goes, 
Just for his mind to seek, repose, 
But when returning in the morn, 
Then she chaste virgin don't return. 

His wife perhaps is reinforced 
By demons from another source, 
She belches forth the sulphurous furne. 
And in the house he finds no room. 

These things oft make a man forsake 
The path that virtue bids him take, 
Then into devious ways does tread, 
To seek some place to lay his head. 



ON SHOOTING DEER. 

Poor little hart with gentle form, 
Tliou boundest o'er hill and dale — 
Thou hadst no shelter from the storm, 
Nor covert from the hail. 
Thou came within my sight to-day, 
And I have ta'en thy life away. 

Why should hard poverty's iron hand 

Oppress me thus so sore ? 

That I am forced for want of food, 

The forest to explore ; 

I with my gun in ambush lay. 

To take thy precious life away. 

Thou had'st no business here to do, 
But roam awhile at large, 
And I was forced for want of food 
My rifle to discharge. 



80 



I have five cliiklren, and a wife, 
For them I sought thy precious life. 

Ah, could I but thy life restore, 
And see thee bounding o'er the plain, 
Thy path I'd ambush hence no more, 
And never string my bow again. 
To feed my children and my wife 
I took away thy precious lite. 

And ah, thy tender young ones too, 
Embowel'd yet they know no fear, 
The huntsman will thorn ne'er pursue, 
Nor barking hounds affright their ear — 
Oft limes thou did'st before them play. 
But I have ta'en thy life away. 



THE TOLEDO WAR OF 1835. 

Ohio started once to build 

A fabric on our land sir, 
But Michigan could never yield 

To Lucas's command sir. 

For ere the fabric on our land, 

They gave a single rap on, 
Our men were ready at command — 

A Mason put the cap on. 

I never wore the mystic garb, 
But this I pledge my face on, 

At the ballot box we'll run them hard, 
For an apprentice Mason. 

So then my boys you need not fear, 

But put a hardy face on, 
Tlirow up your huts and give a cheer, 

For our accepted Mason. 

Old Bobby thought to depredate 



61 



A little on our border, 
And prove himself an advocate 
For murder, blood, and slaughter. 

Old Andrew sent a Horner on, 
To push away our Mason ; 

But when the ballot box was turned, 
It put another face on. 



WHEN I WAS A LITTLE BOY, 
Hail the season now returnincr, 

Thou wast once rnv chiefest'joy 
As o'er the heather Iwas skipoinff ' 

When 1 was a little boy. ' 

Often rambling on the mountam, 

Through the grove and vallies stray'd, 

Reclmed beside the crvstal loantain, 
On the plain with Flora play'd. 

I used to pluck the violets blooming, 
View the rose's expanding leaf, "^ 

But little thought my days of pleasure 
Would terminate in years of grief. 

Oh ! how transient were my pisasures— 
They were min£?ed witiralloy, 

1 reflect amidst my sorrov/. 
When 1 was a. little boy. 

When to man's estate advancing, 
Honor caught my youthful mind, 

Flush' d with every glow of fancy 
I left the little boy behind. 

When to arms the Bugle sounded, 
To the field I rushed v/ith joy- 
Trod o'er the slain and f iewed the vrcunded, 
Tlien forsook the little boy. 

At twenty five I trod the circle 



62 



Of youthful merriment and glee. 
And with the fair I sought for pleasure, 
But there was none, alas, for me. 

At thirty went in search of treasure, 
Where the waves rolled mountain high. 

With bachanalians, sought for pleasure, 
And 'most forgot the little boy. 

At thirty five I ceased my roving, 
Began to think of social joys — 

1 thought in wedlock there was pleasure, 
Would far exceed a little boy's. 

At forty-three, I blunder'd over 
A widow, airy, brisk and young / 

J now my folly do discover — 
This is the subject of my song. 

At fifty, philosophic study 

Occupied my mind in chief — 
I searclicd in vain to find the reason 

Why the heart is prone to grief. 

And now, behold my head is hoary ! 

Days and years how fast they fly — 
The world, to me, has given no pleasure 

Since I was a little boy. 



ON THE RETURN OF SPRING, 1837= 

How sweet is the zephyrs that now are a fanning 
The trees that have put on the mantle of green, 
The aspen thai grows on the bank of the river, 
And willow that stands by the verge of the stream. 
The birds now around the green mantle does hover. 
The partridge, the cushat, the lark and the plover^ 
A shield from the sportsman they now do discover,. 
And shelter beneath thf avv-eet mantle of green. 

Bright Sol for a long tivne from us has declined, 



63 



His rays they were faint and his visage was pale, 
He now is returning again tor to warm us, 
We breath sweet perfumes on the southern gale. 
There is little Jack Frost he now must expire, 
Or else to the northern regions retire, 
And there sit a warming himself by the lire, 
When forest is clad in her mantle of green. 

But yet not contented with his situation, 
He is blowing his breath our hopes to destroy, 
His father is Northwind as old as creation, 
And Jack is the first and a favorite boy ,• 
Snow is his sister and Ice is his brother, 
Beneath the north pole they engender'd his mother- 
There 13 four such beings, we ne'er want another, 
For they always do rend our mantle of green. 

Now hail to the sons of the isle in the ocean, 
Where daisies are white and the shamroch is green, 
Where Emmet step'd forth in the midst of commotion^ 
The bravest of heroes that ever vvas seen. 
Now view him before the tribunal contending, 
The cause of hi s country so boldly defending: 
His breath for a moment the tyrant was lending, 
While he plead for a garment, the cape it was green. 

Green is a mantle that ne'er should be rended, g 

The fairest of colors that ever was seen. 
By Emmet her cause was so boldly defended, 
He plead for a garment — the cape it was green. 
Now welcome ye sons of the isle in the ocean, 
Who left your own homes in the midst of comniotioii. 
And come across here o'er tlie Atlantic ocean, 
To shelter beneath our mantle of green, 



64 



ON THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN WILLIAM 
MORGAN. 

By Mrs. Mary McCracken. 

Poor William Morgan is my theme, 
Nor do I write an empty dream , 
Nor shall imagination fly — 
I never will affirm a lie. 

Poor Morgan he was stole away 

By blood hounds who did fear the day— 

Falsely accused in prison laid, 

Till the hellish plot was made. 

They promised him to spare his life, 
Return him to his loving wife ; 
By' flattering oaths of perjury, 
They got him from the prison free. 

They got him in a carriage twitch' d—» 
Behind his back his hands were fix'd, 
His cries of murder many heard. 
But to release him none appeared. 

As he was in the carriage clapp'd— 
Across his mouth a leather strap — 
Over his eyes a cap of fur — 
Th^y carried him to Rochester. 

Their^iaangman Bruce with murderous heart, 
Triijttnphantiy Vv'ith him L.id start, 
The hapless victim to convey, 
© To^toeet with death in Canada. 

He arked the Indians there to kill 
And torture M organ at their will, 
But they refused his gold a.id pelf, 
Andbadc the hangman do it himself. 

The Indian? once our enemy, 

Refused his butcher for to be. 

But sent him back to our shore, 

Where fierce hell-hounds against him roar, 

A jury call'd in form of lav/; 



65 

But of no God they stood in awe, 
Conderan'dthe innocent to die, 
Without a cause or reason why. 

Refused him half an hour to pray, 
That he might live in endless day, 
No kind of mercy did they show, 
But quickly gave the fatal blow. 

Tore out his heart, his tongue likewise,— 
Their High Priest slew the sacrifice; 
By demons void of grace or ruth — 
He died a martyr to the truth. 

Josiah Tryon, in the night, 
Got a strange and sudden fright — 
He met some men dress' d in disguise, 
It put him in a sad surprise. 

He asked their names, but they refused, 
He was resolved, arid them pursues; 
He asked them over and again 
Uatil he knew their face and name. 

'Twas said the number was three men. 
And graceless Grace, was one of thenr, 
A murdering axe, a doctor too, 
Morgan in galley -pots to stew. 

This is a tale both new and fresh, 
Pray do the doctors eat such flesh. 
There is a time, but who knows when. 
Morgan will be a skeleton. 

The blood stained hands but few kve seen, 
But conscience spoke to Colonel King, 
Bade him make haste and quicklj fly. 
Or on the gallows he should die. 



THE BOATMAN. 

I am a maninur'd to grief, 
I often seek to find relief, 
But comfort is to me denied, 
I row my boat against the tide. 



66 

1 took a boat at forty-three, 
A handsome vessel then was she, 
So neat, so trim, none can compare, 
I thought my pleasure centred there. 

I softly glided on the stream, 
Of pleasure then did often dream, 
My little barque 1 did control. 
Sometimes with oar, sometimes with pole. 

But a pad gale did then arise, 
Which threw me into great surprise. 
Now o'er the foaming waves I ride, 
And row against the wind and tide. 

My Barque was once so trim atid neat, 
in all her timbers so complete. 
Was broken by the stormy blast, 
And nowian anchor I mast cast. 

Her hull is bilged, my rudder gone, 
I'm left upon the shoals alone. 
From whence I never shall get off, 
And all the world at me does scoff. 

Incendiaries now take in hand, 
For to consume by fire brand — 
They think to give me sore offence , 
By burniijg timber and my fence. 

At fifty eight a boat I found, 
I thought her hull and rigging sound, 
But it was nothing bat a dream, 
I yet do pw against the stream. 

O ! coulq I but discharge my boat, 
And let her on the ocean float, 
For I can never her control, 
Not with my oar nor yet with pole. 

O was I on the land again, 
A landsram I would still remain, 
And let the seamen her control, 
With sail, with rudder, oar or pole. 

VvQ ^ovired.so hard against the tide, 



67 

My neighbors now do me deride, 
Because I can't control ray boat, 
But let her on the ocean float. 

Then I jump'd out and swam ashore, 
A seaman I will be no more, 
I dropp'd my peak and furl'd ray sail, 
I could not stand the boisterous gale. 



THE AUTHOR'S FAREWELL. 

As pn the border of Clinton I strayed, 
When meadows with daisies were crown' d 

The violet was blooming in the shade, 
All nature was smiling around. 

The sun had declined into the west,' 
The owl was making her moan, 

The lark had descended into her nest, 
And there I vi-as left alone. 

Reflection sublime engaged my mind, 
As the stream did murmur along, 

1 thought on the hours I'd left behind, 
The days that were past and gone. 

Fit subject, I said, my muse to court, 

If she will be so kind, 
As on the river's bank to sport, 

To gratify my mind. 

She bid me go home unto my rest, 

My slumbers to enjoy, 
1 often might have lur embraced, 

For she never was so coy. 

In youth you often slighted me, 

And turned from my embrace, ' 
And now you're old how can I see 

Your poor old wrinkled face. 

It's lime to think upon your grave. 

And Muses court no more, 
What you hav - lost let others have» 

Foryou are full three score. 



6S 

Full soon the silver cord will burs*., 
Dissolve each earthly spell, 

I thought tlie admonition just, 
So bid you all farewell. 



THE CONCLUSfON. 

My little book is iiow complete, 

At every page, tljere you raay meet 

My roving ramblin? nightly thought ? 

Into poetic measure brought; 

The whimsies of old uncle Bob 

Who works by day and by the job. 

When spade and shovel by ray side; 

My mind is often occupied; 

Now when you read, don't judge too hard 

Of vour unleara'd, and simple bard. 



FINIS- 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




015 762 700 4 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

015 762 700 4^ 



